


Concerning Atlantis

by esama



Series: Island of Fire [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Epistolary, Foreshadowing, Gen, Oral History, POV Outsider, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early Atlantis from a trader's perspective</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concerning Atlantis

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Concerning Atlantis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518678) by [johari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johari/pseuds/johari)



> Proofread by Darlene.

The first time I saw Atlantis it was early in the fall in 1799. I was then a squeaker on board the _Bold Beauty_ and it was one of my very first sea voyages, and I admit I did not pay attention to the truly important things then, not like I would now if I made that historic first voyage. You see, the _Bold Beauty_ was the first trader to make real, official contact with Atlantis.

It is from the captain of the Bold Beauty that I got my particular style from, I admit. Captain Jackson was an adventurous sort, perhaps more so than was always wise. He'd lost fortunes chasing rumours of rich trading in parts that proved to be cheap and desolate, and he was near constantly in one debt or another. He had good manners, though, a cheerful, charming disposition and the sort of confidence you don't see in every captain – the sort of confidence that can inspire others to trust.

In this case, though, the crew was perhaps more dubious of his plans than previously.

True, by then there were rumours enough. The whalers that roamed those parts made contact with the island on their courses – and had done some prodigiously profitable trading in salt. Some of them, I hear, had already gone to such lengths as to cut their fresh water and salt stores in half with every promise and confidence that they could get fresh supply at Atlantis. And for a good reason too – back then Atlantis was not merely a steady trader, but an almost outrageously cheap one.

The tale about Atlanteans exchanging a barrel of salt crystals for a couple of potatoes, another for a couple slices of dried fruit? I have no doubt that it's perfectly true. What those stories – the fantastic naivety of Atlanteans when it comes to trading salt for seeds and vegetables – lack, though, is one particular point. Atlanteans never traded for any good more than once.

Our captain, while recklessly adventurous at times, wasn't a fool though, and he'd done his share of odd trading. He filled our cargo with all sort of miscellaneous stuff, seeds and animals, fabrics, trinkets. He though – not without reason – that Atlantis was a fresh, new colony that had somehow discovered a new mechanism for salt distillation. And new colonies have a need for the most basic of goods. It, he said, explained the high value Atlanteans put on the potatoes.

I had heard of the island from the older sailors, of course. Atlantis did not have name before – it was called the midstone, the barren rock that marked more or less the middle of the Atlantic. It had no value before – though many had examined it, there was nothing of worth to be had there. There was no means of acquiring fresh water there, and next to no plant life. Or so it was though. That explanation painted the island as a small, desolate place in my head, borderline unliveable, and the Atlanteans – though of course they were not yet called such – as a rough, hardy people, unyielding in face of the elements.

Honestly, it hardly seemed like an interesting trade run, all told, and not quite worth the trouble to me – not while there were so many more profitable routes we could've taken.

We had the pleasure of arriving just before the sun begun to set, on the evening of 23rd of September, 1799. The dark made it difficult to see much of the island, of course, but one could see enough, even at a distance. And at first, I admit – it did not make sense to me. I was expecting a new settlement – I was expecting to see ships, tents, bare huts, maybe some rough buildings. I was not expecting temples.

I suppose there is some sense to it. In such a place, buildings of wood probably would not stand the test of the weather and wind. No, Atlanteans build all their structures out of stone – and I truly mean that, _stone_. Not brickwork, they don't even use mortar, no. Everything is merely stone – enormous blocks of limestone, fitted together seamlessly by some clever technique of stone cutting that makes the individual stones slot together like the pieces of a child's puzzle. If the child was the size of a mountain, that is.

How they do it aside and whatever possessed them to adopt a style of architecture so ostentatious – it definitely makes an impressive view. It is, I imagine, how those ancient Roman and Greek cities used to look in ancient times. It definitely made an impression on me, in my youth. More so, it made an impression on my shipmates. That, and of course, the people.

Atlanteans are a… queer society. Almost eerily so. It is impossible to pin a nationality on them – not merely due to the fact that they disclaim any association, but because they are a group as diverse as there can be. At a glance, you can see Europeans, Africans, Orientals and more among them, people of every flavour and colour. And, despite the rumours that Atlantis was build on the backs of slaves, those blacks that live among them, live as equals. It was wholly unnatural, then.

But not as much as their leader. It was a boy barely older than I myself was back then, who met our party at the shore. Of course, I wasn't part of that initial contact – I was a mere shipboy then, barely trusted with errands back then. I was no trader. I was brought on shore, however, after Captain had made first introductions. I think he though my youth would somehow… endear us to them.

It really did not. While it's true that majority of the people on Atlantis were young, then, and that they were led by what can only be called a child-king, they had nothing in common with myself. In my tender years of 13 I had neither seen nor done much, and I was still rough in my ways and awkward in my mode of speech. Atlanteans… while I would not go as far as to call them noble, there is certain elegance to them.

They are all so very clean and tidy, even when they're barely dressed. I believe they take baths before and after every meal, which I suppose explains it. And, having seen the bathing house of Atlantis myself – in a much later voyage, mind you – I know for a fact that Atlanteans wash in fresh water so pure that you could safely drink it.

Back then, though, on that first voyage, there was a skittishness to them – and a certain sort of harshness to their leader. Harry Potter, he introduced himself in what I remember to be a decisively British accent. He had a red haired man at his side, whom he did not introduce, and two girls of maybe eighteen - one of them white, the other darker. They did not speak, but I understand now that they were his translators.

For all that Harry Potter was young, he was not in any way easy to flatter. He was polite but there was a sort of distant quality to it. He did not offer to show us around, he did not offer any refreshments or food or even water – and he most certainly did not welcome us to stay. Indeed, there was no question of how very unwelcome we were to stay. What we were welcome to do was to show our wares.

They would not allow us near to the actual settlement, always standing between us and the town so we only saw it from afar, from the shore which was as far as they would let us. It was before Atlanteans built the actual harbour, too, so our trading was done on the bare sand, straight off the boat. And it was always Harry Potter we did our trading with, with him inspecting every item closely by hand.

I've quite forgotten all the items we traded, but I remember a few – most of the seeds, though after a glance he ignored the potatoes, nuts, some of the dried fruit he welcomed though not as much, I think, as our captain was hoping for. The animals, though, he took all – all the chickens and roosters, all the pigs and sheep after making sure there were both males and females, and both of the cows.

And without as much as a second thought, he agreed to trade every animal for a barrel of salt each – the heavier ones for three barrels – and considering there were up to twenty chickens, it was not an inconsiderable amount of salt. All told, we made back three times what we put into the cargo. And what was more, once Potter realised that Captain Jackson had every intention of making another such trade run as soon as we managed to sell the salt, Potter enquired if he could order certain goods – thus opening what eventually became the settled trade between Atlantis and America.

On whole, Atlantis was and wasn't as mysterious as people thought. It was strange of course – the youth of the settlers there and their buildings, and their naivety in the art of trading. The variance of the people, and their refusal to admit allegiance. Even with Potter being so obviously British, he denied any accusations of Atlantis being a British colony, and as to how he himself came to be in charge, he would not say, refused to admit any noble blood what so ever. I cannot say what we thought their true nature was, perhaps a society created from the sinking of a ship full of school children, or some other nonsense, though even that would've made little sense.

In the end we were there to make a profit, not to make diplomatic relations. And we did indeed make a profit, a good enough profit for the entire crew to look forward to another such voyage, even if the welcome at the island itself had been cool at best. So while it was strange indeed, and it made many an evening's entertainment beneath decks where we all came up with one outrageous theory after another, trying to explain the town's existence, it was not strange enough to truly bother us.

Of course, this was long before people learned of the Sinking of Atlantis, and of course… of its dragons.

It is certainly a queer sort of society, Atlantis, made more so by the island's isolation and their refusal to allow settlers or immigrants. It is a society somewhat removed form reality, certainly. I know no more than anyone else and of course, Atlanteans themselves do not share knowledge easily. Even though I have visited the island more than a dozen time through my life, I cannot name more than a handful of people there, and I wouldn't go as far as to call myself familiar with their customs.

I know of the way they bid farewell to each day with a truly outrageous display of fireworks. I know that the location of the spring that supplies Atlantis all its fresh water is the island's most closely kept secret, one I do not think they will ever share with outsiders. I know that they are not of one people, but of many – I've heard at least a dozen languages if not more spoken on the island, everything from English to Chinese and just about every language in between. I know from experience that their medicine is advanced. I know their dragons are all fire breathers, each and everyone of them. And I know that their wrath is truly merciless.

But that is about as much as anyone knows.

_\- Jacob Chukwah, in Concerning Atlantis_

**Author's Note:**

> Jacob Chuckwah was one of the american traders seen near the end of Tongues of Serpents.


End file.
